


The House on the Edge of Town

by quelleheureestil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, feel good fic, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quelleheureestil/pseuds/quelleheureestil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out on the edge of town stands a house.</p>
<p>It’s not a very big house, two stories with a porch and a yard that happens to be next to the woods, but it’s just right for the family that lives there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House on the Edge of Town

**Author's Note:**

> Hello wonderful people!
> 
> Here's a little Sterek Feel Good Fic that I randomly came up with. I would like to say a big thank you to SweetenedSpoilers for pushing me to finish this (sad, I know. It's only 5k and I was struggling to finish it haha) and being my beta. Make sure you check her out! She's a very talented writer. 
> 
> Enjoy (:

Out on the edge of town stands a house.

 

It’s not a very big house, two stories with a porch and a yard that happens to be next to the woods, but it’s just right for the family that lives there.

 

Sunlight sets the scene early in the morning, waking Derek up with it at the crack of dawn. He wakes gently, making up for all the times he has been abruptly thrown from sleep to wakefulness, and takes in the first light of the day from his side of the bed. The glow is straining through the leaves of the neighboring tree and casting beams across the spacious room, creeping, crawling, sluggishly filling the entire room.

 

Derek feels movement next to him. The warm body that shares his space flips over and buries his head in his pillow, mumbling in his sleep about remembering to fix something in the Bestiary or to look at the law about bestiality or something like that. Derek smirks slightly, used to the randomness that has overwhelmed his life in the last nine years, knowing that each possibility is equally as likely, but he relaxes back into the bed to soak up this moment of peace. He knows it won’t be long before it’s broken.

 

It seems like seconds later, but in reality an hour has passed, when Derek hears the pitter-patter of tiny feet slapping hard wood floors. The door flies open, and Derek braces for the inevitable impact—

 

That always lands on Stiles’ side of the bed.

 

“Get up, daddy! Pancakes!” Robby crows from his perch on Stiles’ lower back. Stiles lets out a groan and tries to bury his head deeper into his pillow. Derek just sits back and watches the weekly interaction occur. It’s almost like they’re reading from a script at this point because the conversation is always the same.

 

Stiles: _Groaning._ Five more minutes

 

Robby: _Also groaning_. But, daddy! I’m hungry.

 

Stiles: _Nearly suffocating in the pillow_. Get poppa to make you pancakes.

 

Robby: He doesn’t make them as good as you!

 

Stiles: Uuuungh

 

And then Stiles gets out of bed, throwing a glare at both Derek and Robby before stumbling to the bathroom as Robby hoots with victory. Derek rolls his eyes, which is a very common occurrence in this house, and swoops Robby into a hug.

 

“Good morning, pup.” Robby giggles as his face jiggles from the vibration of Derek’s chest.

 

“Mornin’, poppa!” Robby wriggles up and lays a smacking kiss on Derek’s cheek, wrinkling his nose at the stubble. Stiles trudges out of the bathroom and looks forlornly at the bed.

 

“I’m so sorry baby, I’ll be back tonight. I promise,” Stiles declares dramatically, causing Robby to giggle once more. “Well, c’mon kiddo. You want pancakes, you gotta help make ‘em.” Stiles holds out his arms and waits for Robby to launch into them. He might be four years old, but he still likes to be carried around.

 

Stiles then swoops over to Derek, pecks him firmly on the lips, and greets him with a “good morning, handsome” before going downstairs to start breakfast.

 

While Stiles and Robby have their routine, so does Derek. Each week, after Robby and Stiles do their little song and dance, Derek heads to the bathroom to take a shower. While in the privacy of the steam and hot water—with the massaging showerhead that Stiles _begged_ for—Derek looks at his life and wonders how he ended up here with a home, a family, friends, a _pack_. Admittedly, Derek knows that it wasn’t easy to get to this point.

 

Stepping into the heavenly hot water and massage action, Derek thinks about the first time he met Stiles Stilinski.

 

Back when he first met Stiles—out on the edge of the Hale property—Derek was depressed, angry, damaged. His entire family was dead, and it was entirely his fault. The only reason he came back to his damned hometown was to find the person who killed Laura, to kill _them_. Then he finds that the new alpha made a new beta, and that new beta happened to have a spastic friend who couldn’t hold still for two fucking seconds, and Derek thought he would explode. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t want to deal with this beta or his stupid sidekick, but Derek did anyway only to get closer to the alpha.

 

That was Derek’s first mistake: underestimating Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski.

 

Scott and Stiles helped Derek realize who the alpha was. Scott and Stiles made it possible for Derek to kill the alpha. Scott and Stiles helped him get his revenge on his crazy uncle.

 

However, after everything with Peter went down and Derek became an alpha, Derek didn’t think he’d need Scott and Stiles again. He could make his own pack. They would protect each other. He had no use for the outsiders.

 

That was Derek’s second mistake: underestimating Stiles Stilinski.

 

While, in the end, Scott inevitably saved the day, it was Stiles that saved Derek. It became their “thing”. Derek would save Stiles, and Stiles would save Derek. Stiles probably still has the tally sheet that says whose turn it is to save who.

 

Derek shakes his head with a wry smile on his face.

 

Then the darach swept through Beacon Hills. That memory, along with Kate’s and Paige’s, still haunts Derek to this day. Hands clenched, Derek remembers the look on Stiles’ face when asking Jennifer where his dad was. It was the look of a broken boy, a boy who was in way over his head, a boy who was about to lose the only remaining family he had left. Derek almost snapped her neck right then and there, knowing exactly what Stiles was feeling.

 

No one deserves to feel that way.

 

He didn’t kill her, but finding the sheriff, Ms. McCall, and Argent came at a hefty price.

 

The nogitsune is still a sore topic for everyone involved, especially Stiles for obvious reasons. He still wakes up with nightmares sometimes, and Derek wakes to Stiles counting his fingers. Derek almost lost Stiles multiple times before he even had him—another topic that haunts Derek.

 

Derek tilts his head back and lets the water run over his face. It’s at this point that his thoughts turn to when him and Stiles finally got their shit together, one of the nights that Derek almost died. It’s a common enough trend, the almost dying, but that night, Stiles dragged him back to his loft.

 

~~

 

_“I’m fine, Stiles. Go home and get some sleep.” Derek said exasperated. The rogue omega got a good slice in, enough to be worried at first, but now, hours later, Derek knows he’s going to be fine. Deaton knows he’s going to be fine. Scott knows he’s going to be fine. Hell, Stiles_ should _know that he’s going to be fine, but he still insisted on helping Derek back to his loft and gently onto his bed._

_If it was anyone else, Derek would have lashed out by now, yelling and turning away the offer of help, but in the months following the nogitsune, Derek and Stiles have bonded over insomnia. Derek would even go as far as calling Stiles a friend. In the early hours of the morning when neither can sleep, they hang out. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes Stiles is the one to fill the silence, and happening more and more lately, sometimes it’s Derek. For all that Stiles talks, when Derek says something, Stiles listens and he listens well. One time, in passing, Derek mentioned that him and Laura used to eat tiramisu on the anniversary of the Hale fire because it was what his mom always used to make. The following month when the anniversary rolled around, Derek was greeted in the kitchen with a slice of tiramisu and the scent of Stiles hanging heavy around it._

_It was at that point that Derek knew he cared for Stiles more than he should but kept their tentative friendship anyway. Derek’s been accused of many things, but being unselfish is not one of them._

_“Like hell I’m leaving you after what just happened!” Stiles’ arms swung in a wide gesture; the scent of anxiety hit Derek in the face like a tidal wave._

_“Really, it’s not that bad. Look, it’s already almost healed,” Derek said as he lifted his shirt to show Stiles his chest. It was red and puckered, but Derek could feel the skin knitting back together._

_When Derek looked up, it was into whiskey colored eyes that were a lot closer than they were a minute ago. The amber eyes then dropped to the wound and Derek could feel the cold spider like fingers gently probing around the mark, but Derek couldn’t tear his eyes away from Stiles’ face._

_The boy that he ran into in the woods two years ago isn’t the same man who stands before him now. He couldn’t be. The boy in the woods was spastic, young, innocent, and full of life. The man in front of him was wise beyond his years, seen far too much, and full of passion. Stiles met his eyes once more._

_“I almost lost you,” he murmured quietly, but with Derek’s hearing, he heard Stiles loud and clear._

_“I’m okay. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Derek pressed Stiles’ hand on his chest right over his beating heart to prove his words._

_“Promise?” Stiles trembled, eyes dropping towards Derek’s lips. Derek shivered, but nodded nonetheless. He knows that he shouldn’t, Stiles just turned eighteen and Derek has a terrible history with romantic relationships and their lives are too hectic and—_

_He met Stiles in the middle, just a gentle press of lips. Warm, dry, affectionate, testing. A whimper escaped Stiles’ mouth and suddenly, Stiles was pressed against Derek, arms winding around his neck, and Derek’s arms dropped around Stiles’ waist pulling him impossibly closer. The kiss turned to a wet dance of lips full of heat and passion, nibbles on lower lips and slight moans, groping hands and entangled limbs._

_Stiles pulled Derek’s still rucked up shirt up and over his head, and Derek gently guided Stiles onto his back on his bed. Stiles’ hands wandered over Derek’s body, careful to avoid the healing cut until they came to rest on Derek’s back, spread wide, clutching Derek close._

_Derek pulled back and starting yanking at Stiles’ shirt. When Stiles realized what Derek was trying to do, he enthusiastically tugged his shirt off and threw it, hitting a lamp and causing it to fall over. Derek chuckled, low and rumbling, leaving a kiss on Stiles’ lips before trailing kisses and gentle bites down the younger man’s throat. Stiles bruised like a peach and seeing the marks he was leaving all over his throat was heady. But the sounds that Stiles was making were distractingly pornographic. Little gasps, quiet moans, small mewls brought Derek to full mast in seconds._

_Derek sucked a mark onto Stiles’ collarbone and rolled his hips against Stiles’ thigh causing Stiles to gasp louder._

_“Pants. Off. You need to be naked. Why aren’t we naked?” Stiles panted out, reaching for Derek’s fly. Derek chuckled against Stiles’ collarbone. “Why are you laughing? Don’t laugh. I need your dick in my ass, like, yesterday.”_

_Derek smothered another chuckled as Stiles worked on the button on Derek’s jeans._

_“Wow, your dirty talk just gets me hot and tingly all over,” Derek deadpanned._

_“I’ll show you hot and tingly,” Stiles grumbles before flipping them and laying sucking kisses soothed by his tongue down Derek’s throat, chest, stomach, going lower and lower._

_“Wh-what are you doing?” Derek gasped out as Stiles bites gently at Derek’s hipbones then laving the bite with his tongue._

_“What do you think?” Stiles returned with a smug smile as his fingers—God, his fingers—popped the button he couldn’t manage before, lowered the zipper, and tugged down both his jeans and boxer briefs in one fell swoop._

_Derek’s head fell back of its own accord when he felt Stiles’ breath ghost across his cock. Derek felt Stiles very, oh so very lightly brush his lips over his length before a tentative kiss was placed on the head. That was the only warning Derek got before Stiles sunk down on Derek’s cock, enveloping him in wet heat._

_The sight alone almost did Derek in. Stiles’ mouth is what nasty, dirty, hot fantasies are made of. Pair that with his oral fixation, having the real thing stretched wide by Derek’s cock is enough to make Derek’s head want to explode._

_It was easy to tell that Stiles didn’t have much experience. He was sloppy, he would accidentally gag himself, and he couldn’t find a rhythm, but he definitely made up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. He was willing to try anything: swirling his tongue around the tip, licking him like a lollipop, mouthing at his balls, as long as Stiles got a good reaction, he just kept going._

_It wasn’t long until Derek was feeling liquid heat pool in his lower stomach._

_“St-Stiles. You n-need to—hngh—stop if you want me to f-fuck you.” Stiles swirled his tongue around the tip of Derek’s cock once more, causing Derek to grasp the base of his dick to stop himself from coming, and pulled off with a popping sound and a ridiculous wriggle of his eyebrows._

_“Warm and tingly now, Derbear?” Stiles mocked. Derek just rolled his eyes, grabbed Stiles by the back of his neck, and dragged him up to kiss him—a filthy, open mouthed, hot kiss—before flipping them once more, leaving Stiles on his back under Derek. Derek shivered at the taste of himself on Stiles’ lips._

_“How do you want to do this?”_

_“As long as you put_ that _in_ me _, I don’t care,” Stiles was flushed but grinning up at him, wide and bright and open. Derek rolled his eyes again and placed a kiss on Stiles’ cheekbone before stripping Stiles of his pants and boxer briefs, snorting when he saw that they were Batman. Stiles just wriggled his eyebrows again._

_“Roll over.”_

_“Aren’t I supposed to be the one with the dog jokes?” Stiles smirked. Derek cuffed the back of the younger man’s head and pulled at him until he turned onto his stomach._

_Derek admired the planes of pale, perfect skin, the only blemishes being the occasional moles that were dotted along in random constellations, but Derek didn’t see them as blemishes. They just made up… Stiles—and he was beautiful._

_Derek quickly covered Stiles’ back with his own, making his way down with more kisses, more bites, more marks to show that Derek had been there. Once he arrived at the cleft of Stiles’ ass, Derek pulled away causing Stiles to groan loudly in protest. Derek flicked Stiles’ ear to make him shut up as he grabbed the lube that was in his nightstand._

_Stiles grumbled and wiggled his hips as Derek poured lube on his fingers._

_“Ah, hngh, what the fuck?” Stiles jumped as Derek rubbed one finger firmly on Stiles’ hole without warming the lube first._

_“I thought you wanted my dick in your ass, like, yesterday?” Derek smirked, continuing his administrations by slowly pushing his finger in causing Stiles to gasp._

_“Could’ve,” Stiles groaned as Derek deliberately started pumping his finger in and out of Stiles’ ass. “Could’ve warned me first, you dick.”_

_“I could have,” Derek contemplated, “but where’s the fun in that?”_

_“You’re Derek Hale. I thought you were allergic to fun,” Stiles gasped. Derek added another finger in retaliation causing Stiles to release a tight “Oh fuck”._

_“I don’t know, this is pretty fun, and I haven’t broken out into hives yet,” Derek teased while scissoring his fingers in Stiles. Derek was keeping his unhurried pace, and it was starting to grate at Stiles. He was starting to try to push against Derek’s fingers, but Derek wouldn’t let him._

_“Okay, okay, you’re as fun as a barrel full of monkeys. Derek, please,” Stiles sobs. The plea sent a bolt through Derek that went straight to his cock, so he pulled his fingers out causing Stiles to let out a broken moan._

_“Should I…? Do you want me to wear…?” Derek didn’t know exactly how to ask if Stiles wanted Derek to use a condom. Werewolves can’t contract anything, so it wasn’t really necessary, but if Stiles wanted it, he’d wear one._

_“What part of dick in me yesterday don’t you understand?” Stiles smirked over his shoulder, looking at Derek from underneath his eyelashes. Derek had to grab the base of his cock again to get himself under control. Derek slicked his cock with lube, touching himself as little as possible._

_Derek grabbed his cock, circled around Stiles’ hole, and then pushed until the head breached the rim, and waited. It was tighter, so very much tighter than Derek would have thought. And the warmth. It took all of Derek’s self restraint to not just thrust in the rest of the way, but Derek could hear the deep breaths Stiles was taking, and Derek didn’t want to hurt him._

_It seemed like eons. Eternities. Before Stiles gave him the nod to continue. Derek heaved a deep breath and slowly, deliberately, pushed the rest of the way in. When he finally bottomed out, Derek’s ribs felt too small for his lungs. The tight heat that encompassed him was overwhelming. All he wanted to do was take and thrust and lose himself in the heat, but again, Derek waited. Derek waited until the man beneath him rolled his hips and groaned out “For God’s sake, Derek. Move.”_

_And then all bets were off._

_He started off slow, not wanting it to be over too fast, but all of Derek’s self restraint was used, so Derek grabbed Stiles’ hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and started pounding into Stiles with reckless abandon._

_Stiles was moaning, groaning, gasping, clenching the sheets in his fist, and thrusting back into Derek’s cock. Derek could feel his orgasm fast approaching, so he reached around with one arm and wrenched Stiles up until he was sitting on Derek’s cock making Stiles whimper. Still rolling his hips, Derek reached around with his other arm and began to jack Stiles off. It was then that Derek buried his head in the crook of Stiles’ neck and began whispering in his ear._

_“God, you feel so good. Imagined this a million times. You’re so much better than anything I imagined. You’re so, so good, baby. Take my cock so good.” Derek felt Stiles’ balls and ass clench right before Stiles came, white ropes coating Derek’s hand._

_It only took two or three more rolls of his hips until Derek’s orgasm wrenched through him, coming hard into the tight warmth that surrounded him._

_Derek helped lead Stiles back down onto the bed before pulling out gently and leaving a kiss on his shoulder when Stiles whimpered._

_“We should… Clean up… Or something…” Stiles mumbled into the pillow his face was buried in. They were both sweaty, sticky with come, oily with lube, but neither felt like moving._

_“Or we can take a shower later,” Stiles’ head was now propped up on his hand, and he was fixing Derek with a level gaze. “Don’t you dare get all self sacrificing and tell me we shouldn’t do this or think that this is a one time thing. I want this to happen many, many times. In many positions, and—” Derek cut Stiles’ rambling off with a sweet, slow kiss._

_“Stiles.” Another kiss. “Go.” And another. “To.” And another. “Sleep.” Again, a soft press of the lips to let Stiles know that Derek wasn’t going anywhere. And with that reassurance, Stiles went full on octopus-mode and wrapped his arms around Derek’s chest, half laying on Derek, entangled their legs together, and drifted off within minutes._

_Derek kissed Stiles’ forehead once more before slowly drifting off himself, not being able to remember a time where he felt so satisfied and being able to sleep so easily._

~~

 

Derek grabs his cock as it starts to stand at attention from the memory. Normally, Derek wouldn’t have a problem jerking off in the shower, but he could hear a loud shriek from Stiles and a giggle from Robby, and that sends Derek on a whole new tangent of thinking as he washes the shampoo from his hair.

 

Stiles and Derek are truly lucky to have Robby. It’s not everyday—strike that—a gay couple is never able to have a child that is truly _their_ child. And Robby is just that: half Stiles and half Derek, and boy does it show.

 

Robby looks like he’s taking after Stiles. He has Stiles’ brown hair, the upturned nose, the moles, but he has Derek’s eyes. Oh, and he’s a werewolf.

 

Derek let his head fall forward to rest against the cool tiles of the shower as he washes his chest, thinking about how truly lucky Stiles and he are to have Robby. Derek had always thought that the story had been a myth.

 

~~

 

_“Pregnant!?”_

_The exclamation rang through the silence causing Derek to feel sick to his stomach as he looked at a panicked, pale Stiles._

_“Indeed, Mr. Stilinski. Pregnant,” Deaton stated without turning his attention from the dog that he was putting a cast on. Stiles started pacing and wringing his hands together. Derek collapsed against the wall. His legs didn’t feel like they could support him much longer._

_In the last couple of weeks, Stiles’ scent had changed. It was gradual at first, the citrusy smell that Derek had become accustomed to smelling starting to take on cinnamon and vanilla undertones, but the more it changed, the more familiar it became until two days ago when Derek realized why it was familiar: Stiles smelled like Talia, Derek’s mom._

_And Derek is man enough to admit that he freaked the fuck out._

_He took off from their home—they finally moved in together after Stiles graduated from Berkley a few months prior—and spent the night wandering in the woods until he heard Stiles crashing around looking for him._

_Which resulted in a fight._

_Because Stiles is a stubborn idiot, and Derek is emotionally constipated—Stiles’ words, not his—but once Derek finally told Stiles what was going on, they made the plan to go see Deaton on the first day both of them had free: today._

_“Uh, no. Huh uh. Doc, I don’t know if you realized this, but I am in fact a guy. I don’t have the, uh, stuff to get pregnant,” Stiles said bewildered. Deaton glanced towards Stiles dryly._

_“I do believe that this is where you kids these days would say, ‘no shit, Sherlock’,” Deaton remarked before picking up the dog, cast now completely on, and put him back into one of the cages. “There is a way for men to become pregnant, but it’s extremely rare.”_

_Derek buried his face in his hands in disbelief. His palms were cold and clammy_

_“When a wolf who is the last of his pack and an emissary come together and find a home in one another, the wolf will be able to restart his pack,” Deaton continued. Derek’s head jerked up at those familiar words._

_“What? But that—that’s an old wives’ tale. It’s not true,” Derek stuttered causing Stiles to round on him._

_“You knew this was possible?” Stiles demanded._

_“If I thought it could actually happen, we would’ve used a condom,” Derek snapped. He then sighed. “Stiles, it was a story that my mother used to tell us when we were young. We always assumed that one, it was just a story and two, that it was an alpha wolf. Plus, you’re not an emissary, you’re a spark.”_

_Stiles closed the gap between the two of them and leaned his forehead onto Derek’s shoulder._

_“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just a bit overwhelming to know that there’s a human growing inside of you,” Stiles trembled. Out of all the situations that they have ever been in, Derek has never seen Stiles as frightened as he is now._

_“Stiles, if you… You don’t have to…” Derek winced. Stiles face softened. He reached down and grabbed both of Derek’s hands into his own and stared directly into his eyes._

_“Derek, I love you.” Derek could hear Stiles’ heart pounding wildly, matching the rhythm of his own. “There, I said it. Derek, I love you, and we’re going to be parents. We’re going to be the most kick ass parents there ever were, alright? And dad—he’s going to be thrilled! Okay, maybe not thrilled that I’m twenty-two and pregnant, but you know, he’s always wanted to be a grandfather, and he actually does rather like you, and Scott’s gonna want to throw a baby shower, and—” Derek cut Stiles off with a hard kiss on his lips before softening it to a caring, slow slide._

_“Well, now that that’s been decided, let’s talk about details,” Deaton interrupted, looking amused as Stiles and Derek jump apart like teenagers being caught by their parents, only to share a small smile and clasp hands and turn their attention back to Deaton._

_They were going to be parents._

~~

 

The memory still makes a broad grin spread across Derek’s face. Robby is definitely one of the best things to happen to him. They can spend hours playing or running or drawing. He’s a little ball of energy just like his daddy but can get quiet and reserved and shy in front of people like his poppa, and Derek wouldn’t change anything about him for the world.

 

Derek gets Stiles’ weird loofa thing and lathers it up with his body wash. As he scrubs down his legs, he thinks about what a troublesome baby Robby had been; how he had cried a lot seemingly for no reason, how he never wanted to sleep, how he always wanted someone to hold him or the whole world would hear his discomfort.

 

But as Derek tries to get the soap out of the loofa—seriously, he didn’t put that much shower gel in there, why is it still all soapy?—he remembers a surprise that one of Robby’s tantrums brought.

 

~~

 

_Tonight had been a night from hell. Robby, now at a whopping two months old, still won’t sleep through the night. Pair that with the fact that a couple of wendigos had made residence in their not so sleepy town recently, chowed down on a couple of the locals, and tonight was the night that it all came to a head._

_Derek was wiped._

_He managed a total of forty-three minutes of sleep before Robby got fussy and started crying again. Stiles, who obviously was able to sleep through the fucking apocalypse, snored on beside him. Derek sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. His broken cheekbone from earlier in the night had healed a while ago, but a twinge of pain still raced down his face as he pressed a little too hard on it._

_Dragging himself out of his warm bed was entirely too difficult, but Robby’s crying was wracked up another notch. Slumping, grumbling, stumbling, Derek finally made it to Robby’s room, which Derek had to admit, was probably his favorite room in the entire house._

_They decided to not find out what the gender of the baby was when Deaton did the ultrasound on a round-bellied Stiles, so the room was decked out in greens and yellows and muted blues. There was a home-made afghan on the back of the oak rocking chair that was a gift from Ms. McCall. The walls had a plethora of cartoonish animals painted onto them, done by Isaac, who flew in from France as soon as he heard the news. Who knew the kid had an artistic side? And in the far corner was a toy chest, given by the sheriff and filled with toys from Kira and Scott and Isaac and Ms. McCall and the sheriff, and, to both of their surprise, Argent._

_Man, that had been an awkward afternoon._

_Derek crossed the room to the crib that held his crying child and quickly picked him up._

_“What’s wrong, pup?” Derek asked softly, rocking him back and forth trying to settle him down. The longer they rocked, the quieter the cries became until they were mere hiccups and finally—_ finally _—he stopped crying all together._

_But of course, as soon as Derek went to go lay Robby down again, he immediately started crying. Derek pinched the bridge of his nose before picking up the crying boy and taking a seat on the rocking chair. He laid Robby on his chest and began to rock back and forth. After a few minutes, Derek’s eyes began to droop._

_Derek could’ve only been asleep for a couple of minutes, twenty at the most, when he heard movement by the door. Derek immediately laid a hand on the back of his son, getting ready to protect Robby from whatever threat had come for him when Stiles’ scent hit his nose. It was now back to the original citrusy tang, but some undertones of cinnamon and vanilla remained._

_Derek opened his eyes and saw Stiles leaning on the doorframe with a loving look on his face._

_“Hi,” Derek whispered._

_“Hi,” Stiles replied with a small smile._

_“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, he was just being fussy and crying again and—”_

_“Marry me,” Stiles interrupted abruptly causing Derek to stop. Just stop everything._

_Seriously, Derek thought he stopped breathing._

_“I already have the rings. I got those ages ago. We’re parents. And I love you. And I’ve already decided that I’m spending the rest of my life with you, so why not make it official? And you’re not saying anything. Why aren’t you saying anything? Say something!”_

_Derek stood up, careful not to disrupt the sleeping form leaning on his chest and crossed the room to stand in front of a now panicking Stiles. He cupped Stiles’ chin with his hand._

_“I love you, too.” Derek kissed the corner of Stiles’ mouth sweetly and nodded. When he pulled back, he saw the face of a clearly relieved Stiles._

_And then Stiles punched him in the shoulder._

_“Don’t scare me like that! I thought you were gonna take the baby and run!” Stiles sagged against Derek’s chest, mindful of Robby. Derek snorted._

_“I’m serious, man!” Derek just kissed Stiles once more before grabbing his hand and dragging all three of them back to their room._

_  
Robby slept between both of his fathers every night for the rest of the week._

~~

 

 

Derek hears a pounding on the bathroom door signaling that breakfast is done. He quickly finishes washing the remnants of the suds off his body, dries off, gets dressed, and makes his way downstairs.

 

As Derek walks into the kitchen, he sees that it’s a disaster, like normal, but in the middle of the wreckage are the two responsible parties each sporting an identical devious grin. Derek rolls his eyes again.

 

“You’re cleaning this up,” Derek says to Stiles who turns to Robby and parrots, “yeah, you’re cleaning this up!” Robby immediately protests, claiming the mess was all Stiles’ fault to which Stiles starts to tickle Robby in order to get him to stop talking. Derek’s heart warms at the sight.

 

He strides over to his husband, his best friend, his mate and gently grips his chin, forcing him to look up at Derek. Then Derek leans down and kisses him hard, slow, meaningfully. He pours himself into that kiss, letting Stiles know just how much Derek cares for him, letting him know how much Stiles has saved him, letting him know that Derek is never going to stop loving him.

 

The moment is broken, of course, by Robby.

 

Tiny hands push at Derek’s face and a loud sound of disgust causes Stiles and Derek to break apart, but the way that Stiles looks at Derek in that moment, Derek knows Stiles understands what Derek was trying to say.

 

“So how ‘bout those pancakes?”

 

Out on the edge of town stands a house.

 

It’s not a very big house, two stories with a porch and a yard that happens to be next to the woods, but it’s just right for the family that lives there. To them, it’s not just a house.

 

_It’s a home._

**Author's Note:**

> Say hello to me on Tumblr ( sydburf.tumblr.com )


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